


The Last Word

by pocket_infinity



Series: King's Fall [3]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, hm maybe like. heavy angst with a slightly less angsty ending?, it's pk and grimm getting pissed at each other mostly, thats accurate, yeah i got no other tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:34:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28542624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocket_infinity/pseuds/pocket_infinity
Summary: Grimm never quite knew when to stop. Even when he was right and everyone knew it, even when all the dust had settled, he just kept pushing. Even with his friends, current or former. Even with the ill and failing.Even with the Wyrm.He always needed to have the last word.
Relationships: Grimm & The Pale King (Hollow Knight)
Series: King's Fall [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2017610
Comments: 10
Kudos: 23





	The Last Word

**Author's Note:**

> listen i wrote this just before the stroke of midnight i am Tired

Of course he was seated on the workshop table, legs crossed with that ever-smug look plastered on to his face. Of course.

“Why are you here,” the Pale King said, more statement than question. Grimm’s head snapped up from the small mechanical thing he’d been staring at.

“For you, of course, dear Wyrm,” he smiled, all teeth and no soul.

“Then get out,” replied the Wyrm, setting his hand on the back of a chair. “I’ve nothing to say to you anymore.”

“Well of course you don’t, but I’m not here to hear you blabber on for another three hours about how you were perfectly justified and what you did was the only option and how even the slim chance of success was worth the attempt. You’re hardly a persuasive speaker,” Grimm flicked the device across the table, sending it tumbling off the edge and watching it shatter to bits. The King flinched. “Especially not to yourself.”

“I stand by my actions, even if the costs were… regrettable,” the king’s gaze never once met Grimm’s as the Troupe Master stared.

“Yes, of course, you stand by them so much that you decided to pack up your little palace—”

“Quiet.”

“And run off to some little section of the Dream Realm where  _ she _ wouldn’t find you—”

“Grimm, be  _ quiet.” _

“And just leave whatever was left of your glorious kingdom that you made all these sacri—”

“I said be quiet!” The King shouted, his glow flickering. But it was just that: a flicker. A brief burst of light before toning back down to naught but white shell. He shoved the chair forwards, directly at Grimm, but the seat met nothing but smoke as the Troupe Master appeared on the other side of the room.

“Moody little thing today, aren’t you? What is it, missing your Root?”

“Do not even  _ dare _ to mention her, you insufferable  _ leech,” _ the Wyrm said, his eyes boring holes through Grimm as he turned.

“Why? Because you can’t handle the fact that you’re too  _ repulsive _ for even  _ her _ to stand beside now?” Grimm’s eye twitched.

“...”

“Answer!”

“You know exactly why, now will you  _ go _ already?” The Wyrm said. “Just leave me to my peace.”

“No,” Grimm muttered, jaw clenched.

“Why not?”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“What?”

“I want to hear you say  _ exactly _ how wrong you were. I want to hear you acknowledge, at least once, how much of a  _ failure _ you are—as a king, as a husband, as a father, as a person, as a  _ friend,” _ Grimm stepped closer as the Wyrm sat down, leaning his head into his palm. “I want you to own up to the fact that you built a kingdom, watched it run into the  _ ground, _ forced sacrifices on your friends, your wife, your children—everyone but yourself—and then  _ ran _ because you’re too afraid to  _ ever _ give  _ anything _ yourself!”

“Don’t try to act like  _ you’re _ any better, Nightmare King!” The Pale King shouted back. “Having children just to use them as nightmare vessels before they can even  _ think; _ tricking people into joining your glorified  _ cult _ at their weakest moments; scampering kingdom to kingdom to reap the bounty of everyone else’s suffering; enslaving your little  _ Troupe _ to whatever whim you or your  _ rotten _ Heart cook up… do not act like you hold some high ground here.”

“That is my  _ nature, _ not a  _ choice _ —and at the very least, I try to alleviate some of the pain I cause.”

“Oh, do you? Do you, now? You could free them at any moment, you could  _ stop _ the Ritual and break the wheel of suffering and death, but you  _ don’t _ because you are no better than—” the Pale King cut himself off with a fit of coughs, his face planted into his sleeve for well over thirty seconds before he pulled in a long, wheezing breath, looking Grimm in the eye as his voice softened: “I was hoping she might follow me, you know. Chase me to this side of the realm, maybe leave the kingdom alone for a little while. But she didn't, so you tell me: what’s the  _ point _ in going back?”

“If nothing else, it would at least show that y—” Grimm stopped as his eyes finally caught sight of the Pale King’s sleeve, stained a near-total black. And his glow, too, his glow was… gone. “Wyrm, are you…” he said, stepping nearer. “Are you alright?”

“What in the name of the Wastes do you think, Grimm?” The King snapped back, turning to his table.

“What is the  _ matter, _ I mean.”

“Why would  _ you _ care?”

“King…” the Troupe Master let out a sigh, appearing at his side. “Despite everything, I still count you as my  _ friend; _ you know that, right?” He placed a hand at the fellow god’s shoulder before sliding it down and across his back, searching for the faint outline of his wings. Even running it back up, though, he couldn’t seem to find a trace. The Pale King bent forward, and Grimm’s hand ran up to the collar of his robes, gently tugging them away as the Troupe Master looked down the Wyrm's back.

He gasped, stepping away as blood went cold. The Wyrm, similarly, stiffened, yanking his collar flush with his neck once again as he went statue-still.

“Wyrm, what— why did— King, they were  _ beautiful.” _

“That’s why I didn’t deserve them,” the Pale King replied, voice soft and cold as snow.

“I… Wyrm, I didn’t know that you would go so far as to do  _ that _ to yourself. If I’d known, I wouldn’t’ve…” Grimm sighed. “I… I’m sor—”

“Just go, Grimm…” the Wyrm said, voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve done enough. Leave me to my peace.”

Grimm opened his mouth to speak before stepping back, taking in a shuddering breath, and vanishing in a puff of red smoke.

The Pale King merely sighed and leaned farther onto his table.

**Author's Note:**

> haha angst go brrrrrrrr


End file.
